


Found In the Sky

by wanderinglips



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Brendon Urie - Freeform, College, Fluff, Implied Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie, M/M, POV Ryan Ross, Past Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie, Ryan Ross - Freeform, Ryden, enjoy skdkdj, how does one tag, idk i hate tags, its basically ryan and brendon stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 08:25:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15457254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderinglips/pseuds/wanderinglips
Summary: en·er·gynounthe strength and vitality required for sustained physical or mental activity.





	Found In the Sky

The moon is exceptionally large on this cool summer’s night at Pismo Beach, the Pacific waves even larger as they crash along the shoreline; the night so dark that all of the stars are visible in the sky. I could pinpoint each and every one. I lay on the sand,put my hands behind my head and begin counting the stars. The Big and Little Dipper instantly catch my eye.

This night resembles one of the last few nights we spent here together. We were laying on this very sand, hands behind our heads, watching the stars twinkle above us as we had been doing for months.

“There’s the Big and Little Dipper! Right there!” Brendon exclaims excitedly. Every night that we come here, we make it our mission to find new constellations each night and if we were unsuccessful, make up our own. The two Brendon always pointed out every night was the Big and Little Dipper, but I never told him that we had pointed those out nights ago. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that when his face lit up whenever he announced their presence.

I finally get the courage to ask him about the constellations. “Hey Bren, how come every night that we do this, you point out the Big and Little Dipper?”

He sits up and turns to me. Brendon is the kind of guy who always wears a smile on his face no matter what and constantly tries to make others smile too whenever possible. This is the only moment in our six year friendship that I’ve ever seen him so solemn. Brendon averts his gaze back up to the stars. “They’re my favourites. When I was smaller, every night before bed, my mom would tuck me in and tell me stories about the stars. Some true stories and others she would make up. The one she would always tell me was the story of Ursa Major and Minor. She would tell me, ‘Whenever you are feeling sad, scared, lonely, look at the stars and find these constellations. I’m up with the stars as the Big Dipper and you are always right there beside me as the little one. I’ll always be there, Brendon.’” He looks down at his hands and fiddles with them. I sit up and look at him and notice a tear rolling down his left cheek. So that’s why he points them out every night. Brendon had told me about what had happened to his mother when I’d told him about my father. He was at school when his dad picked him up early. Brendon asked him why he was being picked up early because this never happened, ever, so something bad must have happened. That’s when his father told him that his mother had passed away from a heart attack while his father stepped out to buy groceries. Brendon told me that he skipped school for a month, stayed outside counting each and every star he could pinpoint through his teary eyes. Brendon was only thirteen. His mother's death affected him so much because she’s the reason why he loves to sing. Whenever they were together, they would always somehow end up singing something, whether it be a song off the radio or a catchy commercial tune. She’s the reason why he does much of the things he does nowadays: sing for a small band, enjoy every moment of life, count constellations.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and just hold him as tears roll down his face. “I know how much she meant to you. I also know how as she looks down at you all grown up, she’s proud. Proud of who you have become as a person.” I see his shadowed lips curve upward slightly.

I smile at the memory of Brendon telling me the significance behind his favourite group of stars. I tend to think about him a lot, more than I probably should, but I’m allowed to. He was the love of my life, my best friend.

_ Energy cannot be destroyed,  _ he said to me that night. The one thing that high school taught me in four agonising years was that energy of an isolated system remains constant and is conserved over time, therefore stating that energy can neither be created nor destroyed but can be transformed into something else. He would tell me all about this whenever he had the chance. How he believed that there isn’t a heaven or hell or even a god, but that when someone passed away, their energy turns into a new star in the sky and lies within a constellation. His mind worked in a way that I had never witnessed in a person before and god, I admired it.

I met Brendon when I was nineteen and he was eighteen at the University of Nevada in Las Vegas. I was studying creative writing while he was studying music performance, which suit him perfectly because he had such a beautiful voice that he could easily wield to fit the tone of the song he was singing. From Sinatra to Lauper, he could do it all. Our paths crossed in the strangest way: I was getting a bag of trail mix from the vending machine and the bag got stuck.

“Shit, seriously?” I mutter to myself as I rest my forehead on the glass of the machine. I’m about to turn around and give up when I hear footsteps coming towards me. A boy with long black hair that covers his forehead is walking my way. He stops to the left of me and I take him in: he’s wearing an army green shirt with a white jacket and tight, blue skinny jeans with black and white sneakers.

“Here,” he says, gently moving me aside to stand in front of the vending machine. The unnamed boy shoves the device and the trail mix bag slowly inched forward until its weight gradually caused it to fall out of the cubbyhole it was in. “There we go. I use this machine all the time and my cookies always get stuck. Haven’t seen you around this building before,” he tells me.

“Yeah, I’m not from this building. I was just visiting a friend here. South Complex,” I explain to him. He just smiles at me and says, “Cool. I’m Brendon by the way.”

I smile back at him because his smile is just so contagious. “I’m Ryan.”

“So Ryan,” the now named boy begins, “There’s something about you that intrigues me. Now, I’m not too sure what this ‘something’ is just yet but I would love to find out.” Brendon has this sort of charm to him that attracts me to him and it’s really shining with this sudden change of tone of his. “What’s your schedule like?” 

I remember how tomorrow is a day full of torturing classes. Damn, I haven’t started that assignment for Revell’s class. “Got class all day tomorrow but I’m free Friday.”

He smiles. “Sweet. Want to come over to my dorm Friday, then?”

I find myself smiling back at him. “Sounds great.”

He asks if we can exchange numbers so that way he can let me know when to come over and to let me know what his room number is. I type my number into his phone and he does the same in mine. We swap back phones when Brendon says, “Cool. Catch you later, Ryan,” and begins to walk away but suddenly stops in his tracks, turns back to me, and adds, “By the way, you’re the only college kid I know who willingly chooses trail mix over cookies.” He shoots a grin at me and resumes his path towards his dorm.

That very Friday, I did go over to his dorm and I was a bit hesitant at first because I had never met anyone like Brendon before. He seemed different and that’s what both scared me and aroused my curiosity, I just had to know more about him. That day faded into night fairly quickly as we sat on his bed talking about everything and anything; from what our majors were to the universe and all of the mysteries it holds within itself. It was the most thought provoking conversation I had had with someone in a long time and after that night, we were inseparable. Every bit of free time we had we spent together, told each other everything.

Once college came to an end, it became nearly impossible for us to spend time with each other like we did in college. We were adults with occupations that took up most of our time, then when we weren’t working, we were exhausted after a long week's worth of work. This was reality. Regardless of our newfound busy lives, we made sure to reserve at least one day a week for us; grab lunch, talk over drinks, just one day where we can forget our lives and pretend that our lives are sitting right across from us.

We had tried being in a relationship with each other back during our freshman year of college. The immense emotions we had for each other were prominent and when we both realised we felt the same way about each other, our relationship began from that point on. A couple months in, it became clear that Brendon and I weren’t fit to be in a romantic relationship with each other. We were soulmates is another fashion, in the way that he knew everything about me and I knew everything about him; I knew how he took his coffee - he doesn’t like coffee so he asks for orange juice - he knew about my dad and his issues. From the little, insignificant details to the noteworthy aspects of one another, we were in love with each other’s souls.

“I miss her more and more everyday, Ryan. It’s been eleven years and I should be over it by now, but I’m not,” Brendon wistfully explains to me. His eyes stare at me with a mixture of confusion and grief.

I take his hand and hold it in my grasp. His hands are cold which is unusual because his hands are always warm. Even when we were in New York for New Years and walking about Times Square in twentynine degree weather, he always managed to have warm hands whereas mine were so cold, I could freeze a drink with my frozen digits. Maybe it’s all of the hurt he’s been through that lies within his heart that’s releasing itself as teardrops and frigid fingers. “Brendon, don’t say that. She’s your mother, of course you’re not over it. Give yourself all of the time in the world to hurt.” He lets out a sigh that seems like one of relief and ducks his head, fiddling with the sand. “C’mon,” I tell him. “Let's make up more constellations.”

We lie back on the sand together, our hands finding their way to each other, fingers interlocking. The two of us just lay watching the sky for hours and I think about how although I’ve lost some people in my life, I’m so damn glad I haven’t lost Brendon. Don’t ever wish to lose him. We have the world at our feet, stars in our eyes, and one another near our fingertips. Or so I thought.

He didn’t want to tell me what it was, said he didn't want me to constantly worry about him, so all he said to me was, “I don’t have much time left. Don’t be scared or upset, I’m still here, so for now, let’s make the most of this life.” He said it as if he wasn’t afraid of what was going to happen to him, like he was ready to take on the consequences of whatever was consuming his body. That’s just Brendon though, putting his bravery mask on so that no one can see how fucking terrified he was of dying. No one except me. He’s only twenty three. There’s so much he wanted to do: make it big in the industry, see the world, feed a giraffe - it has been one of his many secret desires waiting to get crossed off of his bucket list. It wasn't fucking fair that he was getting cut short. At all.

After the day he told me the news, we came to realise that every passing moment is one that we should be cherishing because who knows if we’ll awaken the next day to live any more moments. When we weren’t at arcades, watching some cheesy romance film he loves, or driving around the United States, we were laying somewhere side by side counting stars like we’ve been doing ever since we met. He would point out the Big and Little Dipper, I would jokingly make up my own constellation in order to make him smile, he laughs, everything would be good. No worries. No loss. No sadness. We’d smile, laugh, and reminisce. Just me, him, and the stars.

We kept our routine going day after day until seven months later, Brendon’s heart stopped beating and mine shattered before my eyes. My life crumbled at my feet all at once and was left dumbfounded. I didn’t know what to do, so I laid in bed in the fetal position, ignored everyone’s “Are you okay?” and “I’m sorry for your loss” texts and calls. Nobody can fix this. No one can attain to making this all go away, mend my broken heartedness. Nothing can nor ever will compare to the physical suffering and torment the loss of someone so meaningful in your life causes. Nothing. It was as if someone chopped all of my limbs off and I couldn’t move. Losing someone like this is like walking around dismembered, you’re not your whole self because you’ve just lost someone who was so significant in your life, so influential that they became an emotional and physical part of you. Brendon was more than just my best friend. He was my soulmate. We shared a relationship that others have said they had never seen between two people before. One of a kind. I can never have what we shared with someone else because you only get one Brendon Urie in this life and mine was just taken from right underneath me. No warning, just took him.

Weeks of ignored phone calls and knocks to my door go by, and this storm of pain destroying my insides didn’t seem to want to disappear. I finally decide to go out to work which was the only time I would leave my home. If given the choice, I would just lie in bed all day thinking back to all of the memories I was fortunate enough to make with Brendon. From the time we met back in college to the last moment we shared together laughing under the moonlight, every single memory we made will forever be my favourites.

After months of depression and consistent aching, I decide to do something non-destructive and clean up around my apartment since it had been a while since someone tended to cleaning. I begin with the living room, throwing away old and moldy take out containers, tossing my crumpled papers in the trash, straightening up the photos of Brendon and I that take their place on the mantel. Eventually finish the living room and move onto the only other room in my apartment that gets used anymore: my bedroom. Empty whiskey bottles and cigarette stubs litter both the floor and the nightstand. Loss does a number on you. I didn’t even smoke or drink very much when Brendon was around. I just wanted something that could get rid of the pain coursing through my body. Sure the whiskey numbed the discomfort I was feeling and the cigarettes gave me something to occupy me but they never showed permanent results. Nothing ever did.

As I’m tossing the dirty clothes that littered the carpeted floor in the hamper, I come across an article of clothing that I know for a fact does not belong to me. I unfold the mystery article and realise it belongs to Brendon. He wore it the day we first met back in college, that army green shirt that was one size too small for him and it exposed an inch of his stomach. I bring the shirt up to my face and inhale its scent. It smells just like him and before I know it, I’m sobbing into the shirt. My phone rings, interrupting my break down, and I check the caller ID and see it’s my mother. I hesitate at first, attempt to pull myself together and not make it seem like i wasn’t just crying into my deceased best friend’s t-shirt.

“Hey mom,” I say as I clear my throat.

“Hey Ry. Were you just crying?” she asks me worriedly.

I sniffle. “Uh, no. I was just cleaning and -” I stop and take a deep breath in order to attempt to choke back the sob in my throat. It doesn’t work. “I just miss him so much, mom. I lost my best friend and it’s been four months and I’m still not over it. How do I make this go away?” I said in between sobs.

“Oh, honey. Of course you’re not over it yet. He was your best friend. Let yourself be sad, no matter how long it takes. Give yourself all of the time in the world because it’s all you have,” she says to me soothingly. Those words strike me in the gut because I remember that night when Brendon cried to me about his mother and I said the exact same thing to him. Time can’t break my heart, but it might be able to cure some of the heartache.

The moon continues to shine down on the ocean as well as on me. “There’s the Big and Little Dipper,” I say to myself. 

Brendon’s physical embodiment may be gone, but he lives on in the stars. Shines on as the Little Dipper right next to his mother. Whenever I’m missing him, I go out and look up at the sky because I know that that’s where he will always be.

I lay on the cold Pismo sand, eyes closed and take a deep breath in followed by a slow exhale. “Energy can’t be destroyed, Ryan,” I whisper under my breath.

**Author's Note:**

> hi reader!! let me know what you think about this short story i wrote. give me your thoughts about it and let me know if yall would like to see more  
> -n


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